


Picture Perfect

by boonies



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaejoong's habit of snapping incriminating photos finally gets him in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Perfect

*

 

Pre-debut, management gives them a set of four phones.

 

Two days later, one of the handler hyungs shuffles into the dorm, head bowed apologetically, and requests to see Jaejoong's phone.

 

Buried under a pile of maknae, Jaejoong hands it over with an innocent blink.

 

"Yeah..." the hyung says awkwardly, "...here's the thing. You can't take photos like these, Youngwoongie." He flips the phone around and clicks until a picture pops up.

 

Jaejoong sticks out his bottom lip, blinded by his bangs. "It's just a picture of Changminnie..."

 

Changmin, sitting atop him, wraps a lamp cord around Jaejoong's neck. "A PICTURE OF ME ON THE TOILET."

 

"Oh, you tattled..." Junsu mouths in horror, curled up on the sofa, Yunho's feet in his lap.

 

"HE TOOK A PICTURE OF ME ON THE TOILET," Changmin shouts, tightening the chokehold and ignoring hyung's hesitant attempts to defuse the situation.

 

Junsu makes a kittenish face Jaejoong really wants to take a picture of. "Well, were you pooping or—"

 

Changmin chucks a remote at his head.

 

"The point is," handler hyung says with an uncomfortable grimace, "you have to promise not to take photos like that. They could cause serious scandals."

 

"I promise," Jaejoong says, kicking Changmin off him.

 

The hyung quits six days later.

 

So Jaejoong snaps a pic of Yunho drooling on the bathroom tiles.

 

*

 

"It looks like a constellation," Changmin giggles, bent over Jaejoong's phone.

 

Fondly, Jaejoong ruffles his hair. "Big dipper."

 

"Little dipper," Yunho corrects, pointing at the tiny screen with a muffled snort.

 

"What's little," Junsu greets as he skips into the living room.

 

The three freeze around the phone.

 

"Your butt," Changmin grins, shoving the phone in his face.

 

Junsu pales, then explodes, saliva flying everywhere. "WHEN DID YOU—HOW DID YOU—I HATE YOU, HYUNG, YOU ARE THE WORST, YOU ARE JUST—YOU HAVE TO DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW—"

 

Jaejoong worries at his bottom lip and promises, "I won't do it again, sorry."

 

He doesn't delete the picture.

 

*

 

Six months before they're scheduled to debut, handler hyung #3 says, "We're thinking of adding a fifth member."

 

Yunho frowns. "To..."

 

"Your group," hyung says as though it's obvious even though there's only three rooms and Junsu and Changmin already have to share and how is a fifth member going to balance out something that's perfect.

 

"Why," Jaejoong asks because sometimes Yunho lets things slide too much.

 

"Because," hyung says patiently, "we like his look, and Yunho's rapping needs work."

 

Both Changmin and Junsu bristle at this but Yunho puts up an amicable hand.

 

"That's fine."

 

*

 

"I hear he's from _America_ ," Heechul confides to Yunho.

 

Jaejoong stretches at the barre, displeased. "Can't _you_ guys just take him?"

 

Heechul gives him an unimpressed glare. "There's already, like, twenty of us." He flicks his hair with an air of total annoyance. "We'd have to change our name to Super Overpopulated before we debuted."

 

Jaejoong scowls at his own reflection, exercising a stubborn cramp out of his shoulder.

 

He doesn't want to be _that guy_ , but he likes his members, loves them all equally, and someone new is just never going to measure up.

 

It's not going to work out vocally, professionally, financially, physically, emotionally.

 

It's just not.

 

He tries to take a secret photo of Heechul's bloated belly to console himself.

 

Heechul beans him over the head with a water bottle.

 

*

 

"I'm hungry," Changmin whines, drumming his chopsticks on Yunho's knuckles. "Is he almost here?"

 

Impatiently, Junsu flattens his cheek to the table. "Hyung, can we eat _before_ he gets here."

 

"See," Jaejoong tells Yunho knowingly, "the new guy's already ruining everything."

 

With an irritated huff, Yunho fights them all off, taping the pizza box shut and hiding the carton of fried rice. "We're going to wait for him and eat together and be nice to him because _we're not dicks_."

 

It's not a suggestion.

 

Jaejoong pouts into his hand, leans on one elbow, and glares at the clock about to fall off the kitchen wall.

 

"What if he doesn't speak Korean," Junsu mumbles worriedly, glancing at the door.

 

"What if he eats a lot," Changmin adds, surreptitiously sneaking his fingers into the pizza box.

 

"What if he's ugly," Jaejoong sighs.

 

Yunho narrows his eyes, voice sharp. "I. Said. We're. Not. Dicks."

 

Jaejoong's older but sometimes Yunho seems to forget this because he's definitely slipping into scary leader mode again and so Jaejoong gives a frustrated little shrug and fixes his gaze on the door.

 

The rice is inedible and the pizza's soggy and gross by the time their manager unlocks the door.

 

"Sorry," he bellows from the hallway, shaking water off his poncho, "the airport was a mess and there's a battalion of girls camped outside apparently?"

 

Jaejoong decides to sulk at the pizza box as Yunho rises and the others follow his lead.

 

"Welcome," Yunho smiles brilliantly and bows.

 

"Yeah, uh, hi," a new voice says awkwardly.

 

It's a surprisingly warm, deep sound, the kind that makes Jaejoong want to look, but he's protesting unwise decisions, okay, and he's not gonna crack—

 

"Oh, he speaks Korean," Junsu breathes out, relieved.

 

"The boys saved you some pizza," the manager says pleasantly, ushering the blur of a boy closer.

 

"Ah," the boy says, "I'm not really hungry."

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaejoong notices Changmin whisper a quick thank you to the ceiling.

 

"You're gonna eat," Yunho says, draping an arm around the newbie and plopping him down next to Jaejoong.

 

Automatically, Jaejoong turns his head to look.

 

And.

 

Definitely not ugly. At all. Not ugly or, uh

 

words

 

?

 

"Yoochun-ah," the manager says, obviously satisfied, "I'm gonna go grab the rest of your stuff and you get to know these horrible brats, okay."

 

And then there's only the five of them, crowded around a small table.

 

"Where in America are you from," Changmin says over Junsu's louder, "Did you ever meet Michael Jackson," and Yunho's, "Ignore them and eat."

 

Yoochun shakes the rain off like a dog, laughing.

 

A cold droplet lands on Jaejoong's cheek.

 

*

 

Yunho offers to share his room with Yoochun.

 

But Yoochun says he'll just crash on the couch because there's been talk of moving them to a bigger dorm and he doesn't want to inconvenience anyone in the meantime.

 

Jaejoong goes to bed confused.

 

*

 

Around 2 AM, he wakes up, still messed up.

 

The... aura of the dorm is just... off, what with an extra person moving in.

 

So he sneaks into the living room and towers above the couch.

 

Yoochun's not on it.

 

He's actually curled up atop a large ugly suitcase next to the couch, hidden under a coat way too big for him.

 

He's frowning in his sleep.

 

Jaejoong watches him for a moment, then runs as quietly as he can back to his room, grabs his phone, and rounds several corners to skid to a halt in front of the suitcase.

 

He turns the volume down and snaps a picture.

 

Then another one.

 

He drops to a crouch and presses the button four times, five, six, until his phone flashes 'low on space' on repeat.

 

Dissatisfied, he goes through his album to see what he can delete to make room but everything seems pretty important and—

 

Yoochun's staring at him.

 

"What are you doing."

 

Jaejoong flips his phone closed and manages to say, calmly, "Taking pictures."

 

Yoochun stares at him in the dark, unmoving. "That's weird."

 

Jaejoong winces. "I'm weird."

 

Yoochun gives a grim little nod. "You're weird."

 

*

 

In the morning, they have their first dance practice as a complete group.

 

Jaejoong would rather they concentrate on singing because he's not that awesome at dancing but then he sees Yoochun trying to repeat Yunho's dance moves and thinks they definitely need to focus on dancing first.

 

"I need at least four legs to do that move?" Yoochun pants, leaning one palm against a mirror.

 

Jaejoong feels his lips curl and quickly covers his mouth. "It gets easier."

 

Yoochun meets his eyes. "Are they gonna surgically turn me into a spider?" He makes an exaggerated noise of dismay. "I didn't really read the contract. Was that in the fine print."

 

Jaejoong laughs at the visual, pressing his hand to his lips.

 

"Why do you do that," Yoochun asks, glancing up at him. A drop of sweat slides down his jaw, neck, into the dip by a sharp collarbone.

 

Jaejoong wants to take a picture.

 

"Do what?" he asks instead and watches as Yoochun straightens. They're the same height so it's a little disconcerting.

 

Yoochun gives him a solemn look. "Hide your mouth?"

 

_Because it's ugly_ , Jaejoong wants to say, but Heechul strolls by the studio door and pokes his head in, mouthing, "You ready?"

 

So Jaejoong joins the 83ers for snacks and gossip instead.

 

*

 

"He sleeps like a broken slinky," Jaejoong tells Leeteuk, providing the pictorial evidence.

 

"So interesting," Heechul yawns, pushing the phone away.

 

"I never knew elbows could bend that way," Jaejoong continues, undeterred, and shoves the phone at Heechul's face. "I don't think he's real."

 

Fighting amusement, Heechul rubs at one eye, mumbling, "Don't get too attached."

 

"Yeah," Leeteuk plays along, "he might be getting sent to us after all."

 

Jaejoong pauses.

 

"You can't have him," he says. "He's ours."

 

*

 

"You're a _hyung_?" Yoochun asks, face scrunched up in disbelief.

 

Dolefully, Jaejoong folds a t-shirt back into the hamper. "Ah, I'm the oldest..."

 

"The _oldest_?" Yoochun says, eyes darting between the members in appraisal. "What. I thought you were the maknae."

 

"Nooooo," Changmin wails from the couch, "don't flatter him—"

 

"...how come no one ever thinks I'm the maknae..." Junsu complains petulantly, flattening the hair around his ears.

 

"You really thought I was an 88er?" Jaejoong says with a bashful grin, locking his eyes on Yoochun's.

 

"Actually, I thought you were a girl," Yoochun admits, then quickly looks away.

 

*

 

Their first vocal lesson as a complete group is a mess.

 

Junsu's having an impromptu sing-off against Changmin, making noises Jaejoong suspects only dogs can hear, and Yunho's running through the scales with a tutor.

 

"These lyrics make no sense," Yoochun says, tilting his head at the music sheet.

 

"Wow," Jaejoong laughs softly, "you really are new."

 

Yoochun grins, eyes trained on the music. His smile fades. "So... no big deal, but I can't read notes."

 

Jaejoong almost shouts _me, too_ , but that would be embarrassing, so he asks, trying to mask his curiosity, "How do you... uh, get by if you can't."

 

Yoochun pulls out a worn piece of paper with neatly printed roman letters and shows it to Jaejoong. There are annotations in hangul and a train of googly-eyed characters and some strange wobbly script that makes a ridiculous amount of sense.

 

"Here," Yoochun says, and opens his mouth to hit a note off the crumpled sheet of paper. "This one's harder, so, wait, hold on—"

 

Tentatively, he sings a lilting chorus of a famous old song and Jaejoong finds himself quietly singing along, their feet tapping in tandem, their fingers snapping in sync.

 

Yoochun's eyes widen and then his lips quirk up as he adjusts the tempo and the pitch and harmonizes with Jaejoong in a way that makes Jaejoong's chest expand with warmth and air until they're belting out a strong, visceral note, voices weaving around each other like two silk strings.

 

"Ah," Jaejoong says when they break off, the tutor eyeing them with a pleased expression, "that was..."

 

"Weird," Yoochun grins, eyes sparkling.

 

*

 

"What's that," Kangin asks, turning Jaejoong's phone every which way.

 

"They're notes," Jaejoong explains, inspecting himself in the mirror.

 

"Written by a stroke victim or..."

 

Jaejoong snatches the phone away then goes back to his dorm and takes two pictures of Yoochun napping on the couch.

 

*

 

When their manager sits them all down to tell them they're moving dorms but that it's still gonna be only three rooms and asks who wants to share with Yoochun, Jaejoong finds himself raising his hand before the sentence is even finished.

 

*

 

The first night in the new dorm, Yunho falls asleep atop a beanbag chair.

 

Jaejoong stares for a really long time, fingering the phone in his pocket.

 

"I have markers," Yoochun says casually, walking by with a big cardboard box.

 

Jaejoong's lips curl.

 

"We can draw on his face," Yoochun adds but Jaejoong doesn't need actual clarification.

 

Everything Yoochun says makes sense.

 

"Does he look more like a puppy or a kitten to you?" Jaejoong asks, head cocked.

 

Yoochun lowers the box and takes a sharpie out of a baggy jean pocket. "No reason he can't be both."

 

*

 

Breakfast is a matter of keeping a straight face.

 

Yunho chews and with every stretch of muscle, the whiskers pull and twist and Jaejoong keeps shaking with repressed laughter so hard he's going to die.

 

Yoochun pinches him under the table.

 

"Did you take pictures," Junsu mutters quietly behind a polite hand.

 

Jaejoong took so many his phone died.

 

"Is everyone ready for practice," Yunho grunts, groggy, and sips at the last of his milk.

 

"Hyung," Changmin says nonchalantly. He cuts into a breakfast patty, and says, "you might wanna take a shower first."

 

Yunho's brows knit. "Before practice?"

 

"I'm just saying," Changmin says through gritted teeth. His knife scrapes against the plate. "You should shower before you leave the house. In the bathroom. Where there are mirrors."

 

Bewildered, Yunho pads over to the bathroom, and then there's things falling to the floor and a frustrated yowl and Jaejoong collapses against Yoochun, rasping out a laughing, "I love you."

 

*

 

A month after Jaejoong's room becomes _our room_ , Yoochun forgets a towel.

 

It's not a big deal because Jaejoong's seen glimpses of Yoochun's scrawny body before; his chest, his back, his legs.

 

But now there's no towel and Yoochun's running back from the bathroom, stark-naked, covering his junk, soaking wet.

 

He hops into the room, panting, and kicks the door closed with one knee, then turns to the closet, teeth chattering, and whines, "Why don't we keep extra towels in the bathroom, how is this not a thing we do, there's _five_ of us, fuck—"

 

Jaejoong's phone is out.

 

It's out and the camera is loaded and there are four saved pictures already.

 

Yoochun wriggles as he struggles into a t-shirt. His butt shifts with the movement, skin stretching taut over his hip bones and his spine and Jaejoong's mouth goes stupidly dry.

 

The last picture he takes just as Yoochun slips the shirt over his head.

 

*

 

A week after debut, when everyone's still equal parts terrified and ecstatic, Junsu falls asleep in the living room, curled up behind the entertainment center like a kitten.

 

Sleepily, Yoochun slips his hand into Jaejoong's pocket and pulls out his phone and says, "Hyung, take a picture."

 

*

 

"I need your t-shirt," Jaejoong says breathlessly, gliding into the room.

 

Yoochun looks up from his laptop. "You're wearing it."

 

"I need the gray one."

 

Yoochun groans. "I wanna wear that one tomorrow for the—"

 

"But I have a date tonight and I want it."

 

Yoochun frowns. "What."

 

"I need something gray so I can blend in."

 

Yoochun's frown deepens. "Is it one of the soshis? 'Cause, hyung, those girls will eat you alive—"

 

Jaejoong pauses.

 

Shit.

 

"Ah," he says delicately.

 

"Eh," Yoochun shrugs but looks kinda put out, "as long as she's hot, who cares, right."

 

"Right," Jaejoong says, "...she..."

 

Yoochun clacks away at his laptop, then slowly, realization dawns.

 

He squares his shoulders and looks up with a quiet little, "Oh."

 

Insecure, Jaejoong gestures awkwardly at the closet.

 

"So, can I have the t-shirt," he asks politely, hoping nothing changes.

 

"Yeah."

 

 

*

 

Nothing changes.

 

*

 

First time in Tokyo, Yoochun shakes him awake at 3 AM.

 

"I charged your phone, let's go."

 

Groggy, Jaejoong grabs a shirt and jacket and forgets pants until Yoochun tosses a pair at his head.

 

"Where are we going, Chunnie."

 

He smacks his lips and pushes his bangs up, but his vision is still blurry.

 

Yoochun hurls him out of the room, grinning. "Anywhere."

 

*

 

In two years, Jaejoong takes almost 15,000 pictures.

 

It averages out to just over twenty per day.

 

Management gives them new phones every four months, but Jaejoong saves each one and stores the data on his sister's computer.

 

One day, they're waiting for Changmin to finish in the recording booth and Yoochun is bored and playing on Jaejoong's phone and he says, "If you ever get hacked, I'm going to have to kill myself. And then you."

 

Jaejoong smiles. "How."

 

Yoochun's finger hovers over the Delete All button. He looks up with a petulant grimace. "I don't know. Haunt you until you off yourself? Lobby the parliament to ban Hello Kitty—"

 

Jaejoong leans into him on the bench. "As long as they don't find my secret folder, it's fine."

 

Yoochun narrows his eyes. "There's a secret folder?"

 

Jaejoong crosses his legs at the ankle. "No."

 

There's totally a secret folder.

 

*

 

The first time Yoochun cries during a concert, Jaejoong wipes his tears and laughs and calls him a giant crybaby.

 

Later, he saves the clearest fancam to his phone.

 

*

 

"You awake?"

 

Jaejoong's too exhausted to reply so he just squints through the darkness as Yoochun closes the door and slips into bed and sends a mental _good night_ his way instead.

 

Sleep's got its clutches in deep when a small noise startles Jaejoong awake.

 

It's breathy, soft, awed, and shy, and Jaejoong's instantly alert.

 

There's enough light peeking through the blinds for Jaejoong to see Yoochun sprawled across the other bed, writhing atop the blankets, pajamas down just enough for his hands to slide up and down the length of his cock.

 

Jaejoong stills.

 

He should cough or look away or do anything but what he's actually doing.

 

His phone is under his pillow, set on silent.

 

With a trembling hand, Jaejoong stealthily reaches for it.

 

He takes a series of dark, grainy photos.

 

Then he takes a video, two, three.

 

And then Yoochun bows off the bed, back arching gracefully, knees spreading impossibly wide, throat jerking with need, so Jaejoong grinds a palm into his own crotch and bites into the pillow.

 

He comes first.

 

*

 

"Apparently, this is in the iambic pentameter," Yoochun says.

 

"Sure," Jaejoong nods, following his fingers across the piano keys.

 

"And I guess this section can be played moderately fast," Yoochun continues. He scribbles down an annotation in the margins.

 

Lazily, Jaejoong plays the melody back by ear. "It sounds like Pokémon theme music."

 

Yoochun pauses.

 

Then slumps into Jaejoong, laughing so hard it seeps into Jaejoong's chest, too, and says, "I love you."

 

*

 

"KILL IT WITH FIRE."

 

"...it's just a little spider..." Junsu says helplessly, helping a cackling Changmin guide the thing into a rolled up newspaper.

 

Yoochun's standing atop the dining room table, pointing a shaky hand at the ground, shouting, "IT'S THE SIZE OF A HORSE, PLEASE JUST END IT, IT'S GIVING ME ASTHMA, IF I DIE, WHO'S GONNA EXPLAIN IT TO MY FANCLUB—"

 

Jaejoong's choking on laughter so hard that every picture he takes is the definition of blurry.

 

*

 

"Changmin's been in the shower for an hour," Junsu whines, hopping from one foot to the other. "I really have to pee, what is he _doing_ in there—"

 

Frantically, Jaejoong looks for his phone.

 

Yoochun tosses it to him with casual grace, not once looking up from his book.

 

*

 

Approximately four minutes into their first run-through of Bolero, Jaejoong's voice tethers itself to Yoochun's in a bright, brilliant climax.

 

Changmin rolls his eyes so hard Yunho makes him take an aspirin to recover.

 

*

 

"Did it hurt."

 

Yoochun looks up from his notebook with a smarmy grin. "When I fell from heaven?"

 

Jaejoong's lips twitch. "I have a feeling you crawled out of less reputable establishments." He zooms in on Yoochun's ankle with his new phone. "I meant the tattoo."

 

Yoochun rubs at the skin. "It hurt like a bitch. Yoohwan cried."

 

Jaejoong snaps a picture.

 

"You mean you cried and Yoohwan made fun of you."

 

Yoochun cracks up, then closes his notebook and zips up his hoodie and wraps his fingers around Jaejoong's wrist.

 

"Let's get you one."

 

*

 

Jaejoong gets five.

 

*

 

Yoochun stops scribbling.

 

"Am I really writing a song for Hello Kitty," he asks his pen.

 

Next to him, Jaejoong tries not to die.

 

"Here," he says, straight-faced. "I took a lot of pictures of her. So you can have some... inspiration."

 

Yoochun takes one look at Jaejoong's phone and bangs his head on the piano lid.

 

"I also brought you the new chapter of Bleach and I made tteokbokki," Jaejoong adds, takes Yoochun's pen, and corrects a misspelling.

 

Slowly, Yoochun turns his head to stare.

 

His eyes go soft and then sharp, and then he's sitting up like a bolt of lightning.

 

He writes the bare bones of the entire song in under ten minutes.

 

*

 

"You passed up a solo?" Leeteuk chides over the phone.

 

Jaejoong peeks under a blanket, tangled in manhwa. "Who is this?"

 

"Did you seriously say no to a solo so you could do a love duet with Yoochunnie?"

 

Jaejoong shifts, flinching.

 

Shit, that's a lot of papercuts on his elbow, ow. "It's not a love duet."

 

"I'm in charge of, like, seventy dudes and they would all throw me under the bus for a solo—"

 

"...Heenim wouldn't..."

 

"—and you piss yours away over some—"

 

Jaejoong hangs up ~accidentally.

 

He glances across the room, at the other bed, where Yoochun is sleeping like he's a legit trigonometry problem.

 

Jaejoong gives a soft laugh and grabs the latest revision of their song.

 

He notices Yoochun's added _like a melody and harmony_ followed by a whole row of question marks.

 

Jaejoong tacks on _in love_ at the very end.

 

*

 

"I'm bad at math."

 

Yoochun looks up from a pile of blankets, thermometer hanging from his mouth. "Okay?"

 

"I'm bad at math," Jaejoong says, feeling Yoochun's forehead, "but even I know this isn't right."

 

Yoochun closes his eyes.

 

"We work ourselves to death and get practically nothing in return," Jaejoong says. "We can't keep doing this."

 

"We kinda have to," Yoochun sighs, prying his hand off. "You know. Legally."

 

Jaejoong crouches down and brings his face to Yoochun's pillow. "You said we can go anywhere."

 

Yoochun stares at him.

 

"Yeah. We can go anywhere."

 

*

 

In August, Jaejoong just wakes up one morning and rolls over and kicks Yoochun's bed frame and says, "Let's get new tattoos."

 

Yoochun rubs at his eyes, depositions and statements and legal forms by his bedside, and shrugs.

 

"Sure."

 

*

 

"...you want them to match?" JP says.

 

"Apparently," Yoochun says, tugging on his beanie with an uneasy shrug.

 

JP gives them a concerned look but grabs a design pad off the table and asks, "Where do you want them?"

 

Calmly, Jaejoong presses a palm to Yoochun's heart.

 

*

 

When Yunho and Changmin say no for the last time, actually seriously definitely say no, Jaejoong's world crumbles.

 

They're his family and family should stick together.

 

"Then why are you _leaving_ ," Changmin snarls, and Jaejoong can't help but think about his birth mother and about how he maybe understands her a little bit.

 

*

 

He moves in with Junsu.

 

*

 

He spends an entire day flipping through all of his old photos.

 

He's basically moping and being a waste of space until Junsu's mother finds him sprawled in Junsu's empty bed and gives a dissatisfied motherly tut and then shoves a feather duster at him and sends him to clean the kitchen.

 

He gets a text from Yoochun in the middle of almost destroying a ceiling fan so he climbs back down to sit at the kitchen table.

 

_14:12 how do you send photos on these new phones_

 

Jaejoong feels a smile tug at his lips and texts back, _grandma, is that you?_

 

_14:14 fine, then I won't show you what I got_

 

Jaejoong wants to reach through the phone and wrap his arms around Yoochun and cry, but instead, he texts, _show me._

 

Yoochun doesn't text back, so Jaejoong's forced to shower and to get dressed and to function.

 

He drives himself to Yoochun's house and slinks in, greeting Yoochun's mother with a polite little _sorry_ _I'm intruding I brought you chocolate_ bow.

 

"Junsu's mom told me you cleaned her kitchen," Yoochun's mother says cheerfully then gives him a hopeful look, trying to surreptitiously usher him toward a line of appliances.

 

Grinning, Jaejoong grabs a scrub brush.

 

*

 

"Show me," Jaejoong demands as soon as Yoochun walks in.

 

Deadpan, Yoochun looks around. "...are you deep-cleaning my house?"

 

Jaejoong drops the vacuum. "Show me." He steps over the cord and aims straight for Yoochun's torso, patting him down. "Is it a tattoo? Where is it? What did you get? Why didn't you tell me?"

 

Without explanation, Yoochun tears up the stairs.

 

"Son of a..." Jaejoong grumbles, then rockets after him.

 

The thrill of the chase pumps adrenaline into his muscles and suddenly the world doesn't seem like a total piece of shit.

 

He runs out of breath when he reaches Yoochun's bedroom and leans on his knees, whining, "Show—"

 

He looks up.

 

Yoochun's shirt is off.

 

"I thought it'd match our new name," he says, oddly hesitant, and runs his fingers across his heart. "So it's you and Yoohwannie and Junsu—"

 

All Jaejoong sees is his name.

 

Listed first.

 

*

 

"I'm allergic to cats," Yoochun grouses with a sniffle.

 

"You're allergic to dogs," Jaejoong smiles dismissively. "And you have four of those."

 

Yoochun narrows one eye.

 

Purring, Jiji shamelessly wraps himself around his leg, seeking attention.

 

Jaejoong grins. "Just kiss him once so I can take a picture."

 

Nose wrinkled, Yoochun picks Jiji up. "Come on, this is seriously giving me flashbacks to my childhood when my aunt made me—"

 

Softly, Jiji bops his nose.

 

Yoochun sneezes.

 

Jaejoong melts.

 

*

 

They start picking up sponsors and musicals and dramas and concert venues.

 

Jaejoong takes only 365 pictures in one year but they all feel important somehow.

 

*

 

"What's my name," Jaejoong asks coolly.

 

Junsu groans.

 

They're backstage and they're sweaty and exhausted and high on adrenaline and Yoochun shuffles closer sheepishly. "I'm sorry I didn't _specifically_ say your names." He sends a pleading look at Junsu. "I could barely remember Korean when they said I won—"

 

Junsu pats his shoulder with a forgiving little laugh. "Next time, okay?"

 

Jaejoong's not that easily appeased because

 

because

 

even if everyone else forgets him, Yoochun's not allowed to.

 

"Next time," Yoochun promises, "I'll mention your name, shoe size, favorite shampoo, number of eyelashes—"

 

Jaejoong pulls him into a hug.

 

*

 

Next October, Jaejoong finds his favorite picture in the world.

 

It's not one he took himself, but Baek-hyung drops by the office and flaunts an early copy of High Cut.

 

"Our Yoochunnie did so well," he beams at Jaejoong and offers him the magazine.

 

Brows knitted, Jaejoong flips through the glossy pages, then abruptly stops.

 

The pictures are fantastic, in a surprisingly atypical, unfamiliar way. Gone is the aegyo and in its place, there's a raw kind of attraction, heavy and dark, dressed in leather and ripped jeans.

 

And then, on the sixth page of the spread, Jaejoong's heart sort of stops and breaks and reforms. The photo is black and white and huge, smoky in corners and full of negative space, forcing the eye to focus just right off center, where there's a patch of light and Yoochun's tattoo peeks out.

 

Jaejoong loves this tattoo by default but he's never seen it like this, obscured and looking so intimately suggestive.

 

This way, all it says is: _always my Jejung._

 

*

 

He catches the flu at the airport.

 

"Tell my sisters I loved them," he coughs melodramatically, cold compress stuck to his forehead, "and that they can't have any of my hair stuff."

 

Junsu pats his cheek, a little on the rough side. "I told hyung to bring you some kimchi soup. You'll live."

 

Jaejoong rolls over on the couch, pouting. "I've been sick for seven hours."

 

"And hyung's been filming for twenty-four," Junsu yawns, then grows a little bit resentful. "And it's not like I have a musical to prepare for or anything..."

 

"Tell him to make the soup," Jaejoong says, "not buy it."

 

Junsu nods indulgently. "Like I said, my musical..."

 

"Junsu-yah, tell him to put the rice on the side."

 

Junsu inhales deeply. "Can you at least make sure you guys show up for this one?"

 

Jaejoong arranges his features into an innocent expression. "I have the flu..."

 

Junsu storms out of Jaejoong's apartment, muttering obscenities, and Jaejoong grins into the couch.

 

The door clicks open.

 

"Not totally sure," Yoochun greets, "but I think Junsu just flipped me off in the hallway?"

 

Jaejoong sits up, making grabby hands for the plastic bag. "He thinks we're not coming to his musical."

 

Grinning, Yoochun sits down next to him, taking the containers out. "He has a musical?"

 

Jaejoong's chest is too warm and too full and too light.

 

"Lemme take a picture of the soup," he says softly.

 

He takes a picture of Yoochun's hands instead.

 

*

 

Yoochun texts _can I grab a shower at your place_ , and then just shows up twenty seconds later.

 

Jaejoong's not even done writing the first word of the reply when Yoochun speeds by him, shedding clothes everywhere.

 

Jaejoong's fingers itch the entire time Yoochun's in the shower.

 

He's outgrown the habit—he doesn't need proof anymore, doesn't need photographs. Everyone knows no one is as close to his members as he is.

 

So why the hell is he loading the camera app on his phone.

 

He closes it and updates twitter instead.

 

He means to write about the weather or kittens or food, but somehow, he announces to everyone that there's a dude in his shower.

 

"Hey, where did you get your new body wa—" Yoochun starts, walking into the living room in just a low-hanging towel. "Why is your phone out."

 

Jaejoong snaps a picture.

 

"I thought you stopped doing that," Yoochun frowns, shaking extra water out of his hair.

 

A cold droplet splashes against Jaejoong's cheek.

 

Wound tight, he says, "I uploaded it to twitter, sorry."

 

Yoochun readjusts his towel with a shrug. "You're gonna make people think weird things."

 

"Good."

 

*

 

Yoochun seems bored out of his mind, waiting for NII stylists to finish with Junsu's minor hairpocalypse.

 

His phone's dead and no one has a spare charger, so he asks Jaejoong, injecting extra sweetness into his voice, "Can I borrow your phone?"

 

Jaejoong's first instinct is to say yes because there's nothing he wouldn't give to Yoochun, but then he remembers his secret folder and how he hasn't cleaned it in forever and how it isn't password protected and how Yoochun can never see any of those pictures.

 

"Nope."

 

Stunned, Yoochun paws at his shoulder. "What? Just let me borrow your phone."

 

Jaejoong squirms. "No, my battery's low."

 

Yoochun narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Is there hardcore porn on your phone."

 

"Yes," Jaejoong lies easily.

 

Yoochun lets it go.

 

For two minutes, and then he steals the phone right out of Jaejoong's hands.

 

He bypasses the password and scrutinizes the screen. "Seriously, hyung, how do you find anything in here?"

 

Jaejoong tries not to panic. "Do you just need to use the internet?" he mutters hastily. "Here, just click that icon—"

 

"You're being weird," Yoochun says slowly. "Well. Weirder." He turns away, hunched over the phone like an old lady. "No porn here, no porn in this folder... wait, what's in here?"

 

Jaejoong twists out of his makeup chair, grabbing at air. "No, just stop looking—"

 

"...oh."

 

Fuck.

 

For a moment, Jaejoong is _sure_ Yoochun's found the secret folder, but then he notices it's just the default photo album, with newest pictures sorted first.

 

Relief washes over him.

 

"Are you," Yoochun says, voice a little too deep, "dating Yihan?"

 

Jaejoong's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

 

"There's a lot of pictures of him."

 

Jaejoong laughs so hard he forgets to answer.

 

*

 

 

Yoochun brings pizza.

 

Neither of them should have pizza.

 

But calorie-wise, it works out if they mix it with soju.

 

According to Yoochun, at least.

 

...they're both terrible at math, and probably nutrition.

 

"—and now she keeps texting me," Yoochun says around a slice, wiping the grease off on his jeans.

 

"Who?" Jaejoong frowns into a shot glass.

 

Yoochun pauses, then rubs at one eye, slurring, "Did you get a new coffee table."

 

Wobbly, Jaejoong follows his trail of vision. "I don't think that's what we were talking about."

 

"This is good pizza," Yoochun nods.

 

Jaejoong wipes the soju off his chin. "I think there was a girl."

 

"No," Yoochun says, "a guy made it. I watched him hand-toss it into the oven."

 

Jaejoong apologizes to both of their livers but this is one of his favorite Yoochuns. The kind that's sleep-soft and pliable and nonsensical and all his.

 

"Some woman is stalking you?" Jaejoong tries again, eyeing the last slice of pizza. He tears a small piece and shoves the rest at Yoochun.

 

"Oh, right," Yoochun sways. "I shouldn't have slept with her probably."

 

Jaejoong grits his teeth around the crust. "Probably."

 

Yoochun straightens, suddenly serious. "Lemme see your phone."

 

"Wash your hands first."

 

Yoochun glances at his greasy fingers then at the bathroom, seemingly calculating the distance, then opens wide and licks his fingers clean.

 

Jaejoong's cock decides to pay attention, so he grabs a decorative pillow and stuffs it atop his lap.

 

"All clean," Yoochun says, both hands outstretched, lips twitching. "Give me."

 

Careful, Jaejoong digs the phone out of his back pocket.

 

"You're not freaking out?" Yoochun asks, puzzled.

 

The secret folder's locked with a password not even Yoochun could guess, so...

 

Yoochun swipes at the screen repeatedly, trying to access the photo album, but he keeps missing the icon.

 

"Here," Jaejoong murmurs and touches his fingers to Yoochun's as a guide.

 

The album opens.

 

There's seven new selcas, a picture of the pizza box, a picture of a horse lamp, some candid shots of LeeU, and then it's stuff Yoochun's already seen.

 

"Too much Yihan," Yoochun says, sounding oddly judgmental.

 

There are at least two pages worth of Yihan mugging for the camera in faux Shakespearean ways.

 

"Eh, I like him," Jaejoong shrugs and means to add _he's a cool guy and he kinda reminds me of my dad_ , but Yoochun's fingers close around the phone in a tight grip.

 

"Did you sleep with him?"

 

Jaejoong's pulse spikes.

 

He wants to laugh it off and tell the truth, but something petty and horrible rears its ugly head and so he says, "Yeah."

 

Yoochun's eyes flash with something equally ugly.

 

"He was pretty great," Jaejoong adds, trying to control his breathing.

 

Yoochun is very still.

 

Jaejoong should fix this, but he can't.

 

Doesn't want to.

 

"He's not stalking me like your hook-ups stalk you," he adds jokingly, "so maybe I'm not as good as y—"

 

Yoochun slams him into the couch. His bony fingers wrap around Jaejoong's wrists like bracelets or maybe handcuffs. The only thing separating their crotches is the decorative pillow and the pressure is almost painful in all the best ways.

 

"Are you very drunk," Yoochun asks.

 

"Yeah," Jaejoong lies, want curling through him.

 

"Good, me, too," Yoochun says and slips his hands between their bodies to toss the pillow aside.

 

Jaejoong groans at the friction and then his zipper is sliding down and his belt is being unbuckled.

 

"Don't expect me to stalk you after this," he moans, nerves on fire.

 

Yoochun stops.

 

He contemplates for a long scary moment, then wraps shaky fingers around Jaejoong's belt loops and tugs his pants and boxers down.

 

Jaejoong's cock springs to his stomach, leaking precome and he should feel mortified or wrong or worried about shifting dynamics but all he can think about is _finally_.

 

 

*

 

"I slept with Yoochun," Jaejoong confides.

 

"Is it a day that ends in y?" Junsu yawns.

 

Jaejoong scowls. "What?"

 

Junsu rubs at his shoulder with a pained frown. "Sorry, are we still pretending I don't know?"

 

Jaejoong hands him the medicinal gel, lowering the volume of their music. "What?"

 

Aggravated, Junsu massages the gel over a big purple bruise covering a huge chunk of his shoulder. "That you and hyung are... making baby Jesus sad?"

 

Jaejoong gapes.

 

"Because I've known for pretty much... carry the one... eight years?" Junsu adds patiently, as though explaining physics to a child. He nods to himself, deep in thought. "Ten's probably pushing it, right..."

 

"Wait, no, we never..." Jaejoong starts, thrown off guard. "Yesterday was the first time—"

 

"Look," Junsu mumbles with a wince. His wife-beater pulls across the bruise. "Let's not add lying to the list. I saw the secret folder."

 

Junsu is the antichrist.

 

There's no other explanation.

 

"You know..." Junsu urges delicately, stretching at the barre, "the folder you have that's full of Yoochun sleeping, eating, showering..." he trails off momentarily, grossed out. "...doing stuff to himself..."

 

Jaejoong is 10% water and 90% guilt.

 

"He doesn't know I took those."

 

Junsu drops the gel. He gets lost in his own head for a long minute, then laughs breathlessly. "I feel better, thanks."

 

Jaejoong blinks.

 

"I thought you and hyung were keeping secrets from me for a decade," Junsu says. "When you were just keeping them from _him_."

 

*

 

"I slept with Yoochun."

 

Yihan gives him a bored look, fanning himself with the menu. "Fried scorpions? Wait, is that even legal? What the hell kind of restaurant is this?"

 

Jaejoong stares at the utensils. "Why is no one freaking out."

 

Yihan skims through the appetizers. "About the scorpions? I don't know, I'm pretty freaked out."

 

Jaejoong's lips thin into an exasperated line. "No, about—"

 

"Jaejoongie," Yihan says, smiling, "that'd be like freaking out about the sun rising in the east."

 

*

 

 

It's pretty late.

 

But Jaejoong lets himself into the house anyway, head and shoulders wet from the rain.

 

Yoochun's mom doesn't seem surprised to see him.

 

"You need a haircut," she nods, mostly to herself, then moves her castle across the chess board and tells Yoohwan, "checkmate."

 

"THAT IS NOT HOW YOU MOVE A CASTLE," Yoohwan argues, spreading his arms to the ceiling.

 

Jaejoong takes off his shoes.

 

He feels stupidly at home.

 

"Jaejoongie," Yoochun's mother says, a little too sweetly, "tell this one that's exactly how you move a castle and I'll tell you where my other son is."

 

Jaejoong's pretty sure he knows where Yoochun is, but he grins and stuffs his hands in his pockets and says, "Castles move diagonally, yeah."

 

"ACROSS COLORS?" Yoohwan rages.

 

"Yoochun's upstairs."

 

Smiling, Jaejoong climbs slowly, one hand brushing the banister.

 

*

 

Yoochun's napping.

 

He's bent at a weird angle atop the bed, feet tucked under his pillows, one elbow slung over his face.

 

Quietly, Jaejoong closes the door and shakes the rain off.

 

He sits by Yoochun's stupid enormous forehead.

 

Waits.

 

Grows impatient and runs a hand through his wet hair, trying to get as many drops on Yoochun as gravity will allow.

 

"Jackass," Yoochun mumbles in gravelly English.

 

"Does that mean hyungnim," Jaejoong asks, palms pressed against the mattress.

 

"Sure," Yoochun murmurs.

 

He stretches, face still covered.

 

Jaejoong opens his mouth to start his speech.

 

But what comes out is, "So I was having dinner with Yihan and—"

 

Yoochun shows his face. He looks adorably sleep-rumpled and really fucking pissed off at the same time and he says, "Fuck, I don't wanna listen to this."

 

Jaejoong lays his head on Yoochun's chest.

 

Yoochun's not moving.

 

But Jaejoong can hear his heart beat, arrhythmic and panic-struck and loud, so he moves a palm to it and says, "I used to think things were perfect before you came along."

 

The memory's so old it shouldn't still linger.

 

Except for the part where he feels stupid and guilty and mad at himself.

 

"And I used to think I needed to take pictures because they last."

 

Yoochun exhales sharply.

 

"And I used to think I needed tattoos because I thought nothing in my life would last as long."

 

Fuck, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut, this isn't about his abandonment issues or his possessiveness or about him wanting to be branded as part of a _something_.

 

This is about Yoochun.

 

"But now I know," Jaejoong says, "nothing will outlast you."

 

Roughly, Yoochun pulls him into an embrace, crushing Jaejoong's face closer to his chest.

 

All Jaejoong can smell is laundry detergent and cologne and Yoochun's skin, and all he can do is breathe and leave wet marks on his t-shirt, so Yoochun takes over and says, "Are you drunk?"

 

Jaejoong's lips curl up. "Why don't you check."

 

Yoochun kisses him everywhere.

 

*

 

Jaejoong wakes up to the sound of a shutter click.

 

He cracks open one eye and looks for the camera.

 

Yoochun's kneeling by the bed, taking weirdly-angled photos of Jaejoong's bare ass, face ridiculously red.

 

"Wha," Jaejoong starts but Yoochun gives him a mortified look.

 

"Junsu texted me," he grits out like a ticking time bomb, knuckles white around his phone, "and told me about the secret folder."

 

Jaejoong freezes.

 

"...but it's password-protected..."

 

"Your dick size is not a good password," Yoochun rages, shaking with embarrassment.

 

Jaejoong wants to defend himself and say _but I deleted so many pictures to make room for yours_ and _I'll try not to take more_ but Yoochun pulls the sheets off the bed with a determined kind of prowess and growls, "I'm gonna recreate each and every one of these fucking photos. As revenge."

 

Jaejoong's heart warms.

 

"That's a lot of photos, Chun-ah."

 

Yoochun gives him an intense, all-consuming look and says, "Good thing we've got a lot of time."


End file.
